


The Demon in Gotham (SLOW UPDATES)

by MaxDark158



Series: Daminette [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Badass Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne-centric, Damian is Robin, Explicit Language, Gen, Language, Mild Language, POV Damian Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Riddler gets throat punched, Tim Drake is Red Robin, and hates it, damian says fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxDark158/pseuds/MaxDark158
Summary: EXTREMELY SLOW UPDATES DUE TO PERSONAL LIFE ISSUES STOP ASKING FOR AN UPDATE PLEASECompanion fic to Angel in Gotham. I think it's readable on its own but I hope if you read it you'll read Angel in Gotham tooBased on ozmav's au on tumblr, go check them out! I will also post on tumblr though any later edits will only be done on here and not there.Damian was about ready to skin The Riddler alive. Sure, he should be used to Gotham villains at this point, but he wasn’t used to this peculiar situation and he didn’t know what to do.





	1. The Demon and The Riddler

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY OKAY I know I said I wasn't going to post this until I was done with Angel in Gotham buuut I got INSPIRED and I'm posting it now
> 
> Characters are probably ooc because I'm not that familiar with the batman fandom and Marinette's characterization in season 3 is awful but season 3 in general sucks
> 
> This is based on that one ask with The Riddler

Damian was about ready to skin The Riddler alive. Sure, he should be used to Gotham villains at this point, but he wasn’t used to this peculiar situation and he didn’t know what to do.

Okay fine, he’ll give fucking context.

Marinette, the amazing sweet French Angel that he met because of her classes’ field trip to Gotham, was left behind by her class again. Damian was kind of sick of it, sick of people forgetting how astonishing she was. Not that he let her know that when she asked if he would hang out with her. He toured through Gotham with her, pausing when she sketched. They went and bought some fabric at some point, dropping it off at her hotel.

Then the god damn Riddler showed up and fucking ruined it.

Sure, Damian could appreciate that it wasn’t someone as awful as Joker. Maybe. Not really, because it was still the fucking Riddler who was a fucking villain that attacked them while he was with hi- with Marinette.

Damian and Marinette were in line to get ice cream when the widows were suddenly blacked out. Damian reached for Marinette’s hand and grabbed it, tensing. He heard the doors lock, and the few people in the shop were trapped. Trapped with the fucking Riddler. He pointed a question mark shaped gun at them and demanded that they go to the back room.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Damian held Marinette’s hand. He couldn’t see her face, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. She had to be scared, knowing that damage done here couldn’t be reversed like in Paris.

“It’ll be alright,” he found himself mumbling while glaring daggers at Riddler. Marinette nodded.

Damian reached into his pocket with his other hand and pressed the extra button on his custom phone. The one that would send an alert to his nearest family member that something was wrong. He hoped they didn’t take for-fucking-ever.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Marinette looking around. She must be taking stock of her surroundings, looking for an escape. There were four people other than them and the villain and his henchman here.

His anger was simmering. He made sure to keep a tight lid on it though – he didn’t want to give The Riddler anything to work with.

“Now that I’ve got you all here,” the Riddler cackled, “I need two volunteers to do the puzzle I set up until Batman and his batbrats show up! The others will wait here locked in a room as bait.”

Damian tensed. He had to stall for time he had to-

“We’ll go,” Marinette sounded confident when she lifted her and Damian’s still conjoined hands.

Fucking fuck fuck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Damian hissed. He was very rudely ignored.

The Riddler grinned. “Excellent! A Wayne and a foreigner! Follow me!”

He couldn’t help but tense when he was referred to as a Wayne. He could feel the stares of the others that were in the ice cream shop.

Damian hadn’t told Marinette who he was yet.

She glanced at him but he walked forward. She caught up soon enough, and soon they were locked in with The Goddamn Riddler.

The room was about the size of the kitchen at home, not very impressive if you asked him. It was also bright gaudy purple and neon green. Squares were on the ceiling and floor. The entire place was an eyesore, truly. Grayson’s awful Discowing suit would fit in here.

But that wasn’t what he was focusing on. He was focusing on the wonderful angel in front of him that willingly volunteered them to play a villain’s game. Not just any villain either – the fucking Riddler!

“What did you do?” Damian whispered, not wanting the jackass in green to hear.

“We were the best bet,” she whispers back.

Damian blinked, trying to remember the other people in that room. The cashier hadn’t looked too good, and two of them were children.

“Tch,” she was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He had to keep a lid on his anger. There likely wouldn’t be a chance to change into Robin while they were here, but he could still help. He still had the skill sets and the intelligence.

Well, presumably he would, but there was this stupid nagging thing in his head that kept telling him to look out for his An- Marinette. He didn’t like it. What was it called again?

Whatever it was, the feeling increased when The Riddler addressed them again.

“As you can see,” The Riddler gestured to the brightly colored room, “there’s a gameboard. And you two are game pieces. Make a wrong step and…”

He reached for his cane that was tied at his belt and pressed a button on it. The green square nearest to them made a beeping sound. The purple square above it opened up like a latch and bricks dropped from it.

The sound of the bricks hitting the ground was loud, Marinette and Damian both flinched. She gripped his hand tighter, and he returned the favor.

He glanced at the damage the bricks left. They went through the green square, opening up a dark hole below the floor. Damian couldn’t see how far down it was.

The awful and distracting feeling increased. What if that happened to Marinette?

The Riddler grinned, “as implied, if you make one wrong step then you die! Simple enough to understand?”

Ah. Worry. That’s what the feeling was.

It fucking sucked.

Damian shifted his feet, fighting to keep his expression neutral. The Riddler had a gun, and there wasn’t anything in this room for Marinette to hide behind. As enjoyable as it would be, Damian couldn’t attack him. Not without knowing for sure that Marinette would be safe.

He couldn’t tell what Marinette was thinking when she looked at him. Her brow twitched though – was she angry? Damian hoped not. Anger could lead to stupid mistakes and she very much could not afford to be stupid right now.

She turned back to The Riddler. “How do we know if any of the cubes are fake?” she asked. Her voice shook, and this time Damian had to fight back a smile.

He knew she was angry. She was making herself look scared.

Smart. Fucking genius. Of course she was intelligent he wouldn’t lo-

Like. He wouldn’t like her if she wasn’t.

Damian tightened his hand that held hers.

The Riddler smiled.

“I assure you there is a way to win,” he chuckled. “Now, who wants to go first?”

Damian was going to fucking skin The Riddler alive. Yeah, he’s used to Gotham villains at this point, but he hates being worried and he hates knowing Marinette is in danger.

He stepped forward, ready to offer to go first. If he distracted Riddler long enough, Marinette could maybe escape-

“I’ll go.”

Her voice was quiet but it still knocked the breath out of Damian’s lungs. What the hell? Why did she offer to go first, he was going to go first. She could have escaped!

“Angel,” Damian hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“No takebacks!” the villain laughed. “Go ahead and choose, but make it snappy!”

Marinette squeezed Damian’s hand one more time before letting go.

Fucking fuck fuck.

Marinette paused, taking in her surroundings. She was deliberating for a long while. In the entire time, Damian fantasized about killing The Riddler in numerous ways. Sure, killing was against his father’s wishes, but if The Riddler was gone Damian wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

He was quickly discovering that he hated worrying.

“Go already,” The Riddler snarled. “Unless you want your friend to go-”

As much as he would much rather go in Marinette’s place, those words caused her to step on a purple square near her. Damian’s heart was in his throat and he felt that if he opened his mouth it would spill onto the ground.

Nobody told him that worrying made him scared! This is bullshit.

The Riddler chuckled, and fear began to drum through Damian’s senses. What if she was wrong? What if she was about to die? What if-

Green Asshole clicked the button.

The square under her feet beeped.

Damian inhaled.

The trapdoor opened.

Marinette stiffened.

Nothing came.

Nothing besides a small white feather. She looked up as it drifted down, and it landed on her nose.

“Lucky guess!” The Riddler cackled with glee. “Let’s hope you can keep it up! But for now, it’s your friend’s turn.”

Thank fuck! Damian was getting antsy.

“Why can’t I play alone?” Marinette asked. He couldn’t see her face but Damian could imagine from her tone.

She was worried too.

“What, think your friend isn’t as lucky as you?” he asked. “Tick, toc, Wayne. Don’t keep us waiting.”

Damian considered backhanding the villain before deciding to just take his turn.

The squares on the ground were all identical. A quick glance at the squares on the ceiling proved the same. The stupid drumming of worry and that god-awful fear was messing with his senses, and all he wanted to do was keep checking on Marinette to make sure she was alright.

Fucking fuck fuck.

He began to step on the nearest purple one. He could dodge a bunch of bricks falling, right? He should be able to if he was wrong.

He hoped he was able to.

Damian looked up at Marinette. She looked terrified, eyes wide.

He wasn’t sure why, but Damian had the feeling that she knew what squares were good and what squares were bad. If she was so scared…

Damian didn’t step on it.

Her shoulders seemed to relax, ever so slightly. He met her eyes, and she glanced elsewhere. He followed her eyes to the green square next to the purple one he almost stepped on.

He stepped on the green square next to her.

When The Riddler clicked his button, another feather dropped down on Damian.

“Seems the little foreigner is helping the competition!” The Riddler growled. “You think I wouldn’t see the silent communication there? Now you have to answer a riddle for every turn, girlie! Answer correctly and you’ll survive.”

A spark of panic lit up and Damian felt himself scowl. He quickly let his face become neutral again.

Could The Riddler just die? Please? It would be easier.

It would be easier than watching Marinette struggle with the riddles. And they were in English! Her second language! Damian bit his lip.

“Take your turn,” the villain growled.

Marinette did, stepping on another safe space. When the feather fell, The Riddler growled lowly.

“Now answer this,” his voice was low.

He heard Marinette’s breathing quicken.

Damian’s fist clenched.

“What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end and the end of every race?”

Damian tensed more. He knew the answer to that, but it was a riddle about the English language and he was worried, dammit, he was worried that Marinette wouldn’t get it and-

“The letter E,” she had the barest hint of a growl in her voice.

Damian wondered if she wanted to skin The Riddler too.

The Riddler frowned. “Take another turn.”

More fucking panic.

“But what about mine-”

“Shut it, Wayne,” The Riddler growled at him. “Take another turn, girlie. Your luck will run out eventually.”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Marinette glanced up. He noticed that whenever Marinette went to take a turn, she looked up. Was the answer in the ceiling? Damian looked, but he only got a quick glance in when he heard something move behind him.

He turned. Drake was there, in costume.

This was his chance. Damian could sneak out now and change into costume. Drake could defend his angel – wait no dammit – Marinette long enough that she would be okay.

“How can you tell?” the villain was snarling. “How do you know which ones you can use and which ones you can’t?”

“Just lucky I guess.”

He made his way quickly and silently to the door, already unbuttoning his shirt. Drake shrugged and made an “Okay?” sign. Damian responded with a, “wait,” sign while shoving on his mask.

He didn’t care right now if he looked messy or not right now.

“No, you figured something out,” The Riddler hissed. “How? How did you do it?”

He nearly fell trying to change his pants and made a sound when catching himself. Marinette scoffed around the same time, almost as if covering for him.

“As if I’d tell you,” she sounded haughty.

Oh no. His panic was back full force.

Stupid fucking feelings.

He finished dressing and looked over just in time to see The Riddler lunge at Marinette.

FUCKING FUCK FUCK.

Drake yelled something, but neither of the two on the puzzle board reacted to it.

She sidestepped to avoid The Riddler’s lunge. Swept under feet to make him lose his balance. Dug an elbow to the side to topple him over. Jumped to avoid his attempt to bring her down with him. Kicked his remote away from him.

Holy shit.

Damian was, as Robin, quickly making his way over, but he let himself be impressed for a moment.

In that moment, the villain didn’t stay down. Once she kicked his device away he was up again, this time fighting her with more intelligent movements.

Damian’s worry was draining away though. Because the longer they fought, the more trained Marinette looked. It was known that The Riddler was not very good at fighting hand to hand combat.

She punched him in the throat – the fucking throat – before running into Drake.

“Woah, calm down,” Drake sounded just as impressed as Damian was. And surprised.

Because Damian was definitely surprised, so Drake had to be too.

“Where’s my friend?” she asked. Shit. “Damian, he came here with me and-”

“It’s alright An- civilian,” he stepped forward while Drake walked to the villain. “I carried him out while The Riddler was focused on you.”

She relaxed. Good. He was worri-

God damn it, he needed to stop feeling that.

“You knocked him out,” Red Robin commented from behind her.

What? Robin looked at The Riddler and yep. Out cold.

“Punching faces is stupid, you’re more likely to hurt your hand if you don’t do it right. Going for the throat is a dirty move but more effective.”

Holy Fuck.

She was incredible.

“How’d you figure out his riddle board thing?” Drake asked.

“Anyone can figure it out if they look up! It’s obvious.”

“What?” he didn’t know what to look for.

“Oh!” Drake snapped his fingers. “The hinges?”

Marinette nodded. “He must have cut some corners because there’s no way the small hinges would hold a bunch of bricks.”

“Oh.” Damian felt stupid. Marinette had this. She had this in the bag. He was useless the entire time…

He slapped the feeling away. Get the fuck out.

Drake looked back at her. “You’re pretty smart.”

Damian fought back the urge to growl. Marinette wasn’t his Angel. She was an Angel, he didn’t have ownership.

“No, it’s something anyone would notice if they looked up! I just managed to use the knowledge.”

Damian raised a brow. So, self-confidence was something she needed help with, clearly.

He heard his father approach from behind. Drake nodded to him.

“Robin.”

Shit, what was wrong.

“Please allow the civilian to leave, we need to get The Riddler to Arkham.”

Oh, right. He sighed.

“I’ll guide her out,” Drake offered. He wanted to protest but father didn’t allow it.

Once she was out, he whirled on him. “I didn’t know Riddler was here or we wouldn’t have gone near the place, I apologize for putting a civilian in danger-”

“I just needed your help putting the cuffs on him,” his father sighed. “Then you can go to the police station and act as a victim.”

Damian nodded, heading over to The Riddler.

* * *

“Angel!” she was okay, thank god.

Without thinking, he grabbed her in a hug. He almost let go until she returned it, breathing in and out slowly. Marinette was really warm.

“I went back out to look for you, Robin told me you were here,” Damian mumbled. He stepped back, checking over her. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine, Damian. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He sighed in relief. “Don’t scare me like that again, Angel, please.”

She seemed to cave in on herself, guiltily. “I’m sorry, I should have given you more warning, or only volunteered myself.”

“What?” Damian shook his head. “No, I’m glad it was us two. The Riddler would have killed anyone else. I was more worried when you fought him.”

“You fought The Riddler?” The cashier was staring at her with wide eyes. His voice was loud enough that the entire station went silent.

Marinette laughed. She seemed less guilty now, only awkward. “He was bad at hand to hand combat. And mad at me. That made him make some dumb moves, most people would have been able to beat him.”

“Still,” Commissioner Gordan chuckled. “Quite commendable for a young girl.”

“It’s really nothing,” Marinette tried to wave it off. “We have a lot of villains in Paris. I’d be stupid if I didn’t learn to fight them.”

“The akuma!” a young girl shouted. “I saw on the Lady’s blog about superheroes!”

“Don’t believe everything on that blog,” her the slightly older kid mumbled. “There is no way sausage hair is a superhero’s best friends. Superheroes don’t make friends with civilians.”

“I only watch the videos of fights,” the young girl pouted.

“Miss, if you’re ready,” Damian saw Commissioner Gordan gesture to the empty room they used for questioning witnesses. “We need you to retell everything that just happened for the record.”

Marinette nodded. Damian let go of her fully, hating how it suddenly got cold without her.

He should probably admit to himself he liked her.

Hell no.

She followed the greying man into his office, not noticing the awed looks of those around her as she passed by.

After she left, Damian Wayne pulled out his phone. Someone had to let her teacher know she was alright, if they noticed her missing at all.

They’re fools not to notice her, but Damian was glad he had no competition from those idiots.

* * *

> **Unnamed Teenager From France Holds off The Riddler Until Batman Arrives!**
> 
> _“I was just doing what anyone else would have done,” she says. “He was pretty annoying though. His riddles need work.”_

* * *

The Riddler was wearing a neck brace. It was a precaution, the stupid French brat only bruised his throat. He still hated how sore his vocal cords were.

He was in fucking Arkham again too. Because a stupid French girl wasn’t so stupid.

“Hello there friend,” a familiar voice called from the cell next to him. “It seems you aren’t smiling.”

He glanced over, seeing The Joker in Penguin’s cell. He seemed to be in the process of breaking out.

“Why don’t you tell me why?” The Joker’s face broke out into a huge grin.


	2. The Demon and His Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Companion fic to Angel in Gotham. I think it's readable on its own but I hope if you read it you'll read Angel in Gotham too
> 
> Based on ozmav's au on tumblr, go check them out! I will also post on tumblr though any later edits will only be done on here and not there.
> 
> Damian tried to ignore his phone after checking it for the thirteenth time. But who was counting?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE GIVEN UP ON A SCHEDULE LOL I'm still posting AiG this weekend but DiG? Random.
> 
> Characters aren't in character. I've given up caring about that tbh.
> 
> Damian's catchphrase is now FUCKING FUCK FUCK sorry I didn't make the rules

Damian tried to ignore his phone after checking it for the thirteenth time. But who was counting?

He was, actually. Because it seems the stupid worry feeling will never fucking go away! It took root, and it’s only growing. Damian wondered if drinking weedkiller works on emotions. The bitches.

He wasn’t even that worried initially! Sure, he wanted his An- Marinette to text him when she got to the hotel, but that was just… a friend thing. It’s what friends ask! And they were friends.

Damian wasn’t worried on the car ride to the manor, he had only checked his phone once then. When his father questioned him about The Riddler incident, he was thoroughly distracted and didn’t check at all. After he left the room he checked twice in one minute just to make sure he didn’t miss anything in the first check.

He checked sparsely while training briefly, adding up to eight… okay, maybe not so sparsely. But at this point the awful god damn plant had grown a mouth and it was gnawing on his sanity, bugging him every moment of peace he had.

Damian was getting really fucking sick of this whole worry business. It was awful! Why did Grayson partake in it for so many years? Why did anyone?

He was beginning to understand his classmates’ sense of humor now. But “I want to ka-shoot myself,” was not as funny as they thought it was.

Damian was so busy thinking about worrying and getting more worried – the fucking circle of life – that when he checked his phone for the fourteenth time, he realized he missed a message from Marinette.

**Angel**: I’m at the hotel now.

Thank fuck. Damian banished all the worry from his mind – leave, motherfucker – and typed out a response.

**Damian**: That’s good

**Damian**: Did you get in trouble?

Wait fuck the worry wasn’t gone. He wanted to smack the phone against his head. Or break his thumbs for typing that without his permission.

**Angel**: Professor Mendeleiev must’ve been tired or something.

**Angel**: She didn’t leacture

Damian bit his lip. Marinette needed to work on her English.

**Angel**: Lecture?

**Damian**: *lecture

**Angel**: Quiet, English is hard

He could fucking understand that! It may have been long ago but Damian had to learn once too, ya know.

**Damian**: Understandable.

**Damian**: In my original question I meant any of your classmates btw

Holy fucking shit his thumbs would be cut off by sunlight he swears to all the justice league members-

**Angel**: btw?

**Angel**: Oh by the way

**Damian**: yeah

**Angel**: I’m good at text slang in French, okay

**Damian**: I don’t doubt you

He really didn’t. Marinette seemed intelligent if The Riddler incident had anything to say about it.

**Angel**: Anyway Alya tried to bother me but I’m good now

He frowned. Alya? She hadn't told him about her.

**Angel**: Professor Mendeleiev told her off for bothering me after my ‘traumatic’ encounter with a Gotham villain

**Damian**: Speaking of, are you SURE you’re alright Angel

Damian sighed, letting his head drop. Okay, fucking fine he was still fucking worried and he hated it. His thumbs weren’t to blame, his fucking emotions were.

He pulled up Google to look up liquid weedkiller when his Ang- Marinette texted back.

**Angel**: I’m fine

**Angel**: I’ve survived akuma for three years, I’m not about to let some riddle fanatic with terrible clothing choices ruin my day

**Damian**: His clothes are that bad?

Good, subject change. Maybe he can stop fucking worrying.

**Angel**: Too much green, for one

**Angel**: Green shouldn’t be used in large portions when it’s that bright of a shade

**Angel**: Also the cloth itself was cheap, but the kind of cheap meant to look expensive if you don’t know cloth good

Damian frowned. That was so fucking obvious. Surely she didn’t actually make that mistake…

**Damian**: *well

**Angel**: Whatever

**Angel**: Also his hat didn’t match the type of suit he was wearing

**Angel**: If he wants to go old fashioned he should at least match the time period

**Angel**: Longer coat, more layers

**Angel**: He is an atrocity

Her comments were appreciable though. He could see where she came from.

**Damian**: he is

**Angel**: If I had time to cry then my tears would had been blood

**Damian**:*have

Damian grinned. If Marinette didn’t want her fucking grammar fixed she should learn how to spell in English.

A different motherfucking bitch of an emotion appeared at that thought. He didn’t like that one either. It made him feel bad for being mean.

**Angel**: istg

**Damian**: It appears you’re learning

**Angel**: Yepp

**Damian**: Also the Gotham news posted an article online about you

Might as well bite the bullet, right?

**Damian**: “Unnamed Teenager From France Holds off The Riddler Until Batman Arrives!”

**Angel**: Wait what?

**Angel**: But we both held him off?

**Damian**: I was kind of useless, you did most of the work

God damn it! Damian thought he told that emotion to get the fuck out! He was fucking Robin he isn’t useless, he just happened to not be needed at that exact moment.

**Damian**: I left shortly after you solved his riddle because the Robins had arrived

He grumbled to himself. He hated emotions. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever felt them before, but they were easier to ignore. This girl made them hard to ignore, and Damian wasn’t sure why.

He did know that he fucking hated it.

After a moment, he realized h- Marinette hadn’t replied for a few minutes.

**Damian**: You there?

**Angel**: Yeah. I was just reading the article

Good. He didn’t want anything to happen- motherfucking dammit.

**Angel**: The Riddler was bad at hand to hand combat. It was easy to take him down with the practice I have from Paris

**Damian**: I bet.

He saw the time on his phone. Marinette had more field trip stuff tomorrow morning, right? Shouldn’t she get to bed?

**Damian**: It’s getting late, Angel. We should go to bed.

**Damian**: Goodnight

**Angel**: Goodnight

**Angel**: Also I’ll find a chat name for you soon, promise

Damian’s smile felt weird on his face but unlike the god damn worry and fucking other emotions, he didn’t hate the feeling of it.

After replying, he prepared to get dressed for his patrol as Robin.

* * *

“Sooo, Robin,” Drake dropped down next to him. “Want to share why you were at that ice cream parlor with that pigtailed French girl?”

“Fuck off,” is Damian’s extremely eloquent response. He can say it in many different languages.

“Wait, Demon Spawn has a girlfriend?” fucking Todd over the fucking comms in his fucking awful Red Hood suit. At least his current helmet didn’t have the fucking lips.

“No, I don’t-“

“I’m trying to figure that out, Red _Hood_, so would you kindly butt out of the conversation.”

“Of course Red _Robin_, good luck getting anything out of him though.”

“I don’t have a fucking girlfriend you numbskulls,” Damian hissed through the comms.

“Wait what’s this about a girlfriend, Robin?” Grayson’s overexcited cheerleader voice screamed. Damian wanted to rip out his eardrums.

“Red Robin, I thought I instructed you to leave him alone about this,” finally, his father, for once being a fucking voice of reason, speaks on the comms.

“Bruce you said I should wait until he admits to having a girlfriend,” Drake sounded too smug, Damian wanted to cut it off his masked face. “We know that isn’t going to happen.”

“I hate this fucking family,” Damian hissed.

* * *

Marinette hadn’t missed her field trip this time. Or had she? Maybe she slept in really fucking late. Damian didn’t know. He didn’t know what her sleeping schedule was like.

She could have also been captured or killed. Those were not fun thoughts. The fucking worry was back, like a virus. Damian anxiously awaited his weedkiller.

She likely wasn’t kidnapped or dead. His father would have known by now and would have told him. He hopes. If his father didn’t tell him he’s a fucking asshole.

“Master Damian.”

“Yes?” he turned around to face Alfred, grateful to be away from the god damn brain-eating plant in his head.

“I simply wanted to prevent you from walking into that wall,” Alfred gestured behind Damian.

He glanced and – yep. Fucking hell. He almost walked into a wall because of the god damn weed of an emotion forcibly taking his mind hostage.

He was having a grand ol’ time.

“Perhaps you would like to go for a drive?” Alfred asked, a single brow raised.

Damian hesitated. “Alright. Where do you want to go?”

“We can figure it out in the car, Master Damian.” Alfred went to grab the keys and his shoes. Damian checked on when his weedkiller would arrive.

A week.

Fucking fuck fuck.

He should have paid for one-hour shipping.

“Are you ready to go, Master Damian?”

“Yes.”

Alfred didn’t try to talk to him during the drive, for which Damian was grateful though. He hated this emotion thing, and people forcing him to talk made it so much worse.

His phone buzzed. Damian pulled it out and checked it.

**Angel**: Kill me now

His eyes widened. What happened? Is she okay? Did someone- god fucking motherfucking dammit bitch.

**Damian**: What’s wrong?

Stupid god damn worry.

**Angel**: We have to all get lunch as a class before I’m free

**Angel**: I’m in the group with Liar Rossi

Damian raised a brow. Marinette hadn’t told him much about this girl in her class, but he knew she lied and nobody but Marinette knew she lied.

He didn’t like her.

**Angel**: Death would be sweatier

**Damian**: *sweeter

**Angel**: Rude

**Damian**: Anyway

**Damian**: You can’t die yet

**Damian**: We still technically didn’t get ice cream

Absolutely wonderful excuse you fucking asswhipe. Damian should be a politician with that reasoning.

He looked around, recognizing the streets. They were a bit weird from the actual street instead of the rooftops, but-

**Damian**: Also you’re at the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum right?

**Angel**: Yes I am

Damian fought to keep the smi- self-satisfied smirk off his face. Bingo.

**Damian**: I’m nearby

**Damian**: I can pick you up for lunch

**Angel**: OMG really? Please do I’d really really like that

**Damian**: omw

“Alfred,” Damian leaned up toward the front seat. “Head to the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum? I’d like to pick someone up.”

“Of course Master Damian,” Alfred’s tone didn’t betray anything about his thoughts, but for some reason that was calming to him.

The car drive to the museum was fairly short, if Damian was honest. They were only a few minutes away to begin with anyway.

When they arrived, Damian saw a redhaired girl with glasses yelling at his An- Marinette. At Marinette. He couldn’t hear what Marinette had said, but it must have been good. The red-haired girl’s jaw fucking dropped. The people behind her looked fucking dead.

Priceless.

Marinette saw him and he waved. Alfred unlocked the door, and Marinette got in. She didn’t look back at her classmates' faces as Alfred drove away.

Shit. Something must have happened. He wasn’t good with emotions though, after all he ordered weedkiller to see if he could get rid of fucking worry.

So, Damian Wayne did what any Wayne would do when faced with emotions.

Ignore them.

“Where would you like to eat, Angel?” Damian asked.

Shit, fuck, too insensitive.

Marinette shrugged. “I’m not sure, I don’t know what’s here.”

She sounded so goddamn miserable-

Damian frowned. “Angel, you okay?”

Fucking shit, stupid mouth. Learn the fucking rules. He should be banned from fucking talking.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

Damian wanted to press the issue but decided against it. If he was happy when Alfred didn’t make him talk feelings, maybe Marinette would be too.

He was a friend first – wait first before what, exactly?

“Alfred, can you take us to the nearest,” he glanced at Marinette. “four-star restaurant?”

“As you wish Master Damian.”

He hoped Marinette didn’t feel out of place, but he wanted to lift her spirits. She deserved to smile – that was a weird fucking sentence what the fuck?

Damian is pretty sure he’s losing his marbles.

“I know,” Marinette suddenly blurted out. “I know you’re Damian Wayne.”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Shit. She’s probably pissed he didn’t tell her-

“I just want you to know that doesn’t change anything. You’re still my friend, and I don’t care who your dad is and who you are.”

Damian gaped at her for a moment before shaking his head. He should have fucking told her, he’s an ass. “I’m sorry you had to find out on your own. I should have told you-”

Marinette interrupted, “you didn’t have to. You don’t owe me that.”

He was confused. What?

She didn’t want to know who he was right off the bat? She was okay with that secret?

“As a stranger or even a friend, you don’t owe me any details about who you are. Ever,” Marinette told him. “You’re allowed to keep secrets and not tell me things you aren’t comfortable sharing. It isn’t fair of me to demand you tell me everything.”

Holy fucking shit.

This… this woman…

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I… nobody’s ever said secrets are okay…”

Marinette shrugged. “I can’t help if I feel left out, but forcing you to tell me everything isn’t how friendship is supposed to work. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

Damian’s smile was small, and it felt a bit out of place on his face. He couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“Perhaps instead of a restaurant, I can take you both to the mansion for your lunch?” Alfred, the god damn traitor, suggested.

He wanted to say ‘have you lost your god damn marbles, Alfred?’ but he didn’t.

Instead, he said, “You sure Alfred?” like a fucking loser.

Marinette glanced at him. “You don’t have to if you aren’t comforta-”

“No, it’s not that,” he assured. Why would she think he was uncomfortable? His brothers were menaces, but he was used to them! Marinette, however... “My brothers can be… rambunctious.”

Drake and Todd were going to have a fucking field day, especially after what they pulled last night over the comms. He was lucky Grayson was working today. But those two motherfuckers…

Marinette smiled. “I can handle them if that’s the only reason you’re nervous.”

Damian thought for a moment.

Fucking fuck fuck.

He hoped she could. Because if they caused her any unnecessary harm or discomfort he would murder their asses.

With pleasure too.

But one look told Damian that he wouldn’t need to. This girl was going to be the death of him. He hoped the weedkiller was miraculously early.

He sighed. “Alfred, please talk us to the mansion.”

“My pleasure, Master Damian.”

Fucking fuck fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you have a nice day


	3. The Demon and The Two Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is a crazy bitch who thinks he isnt
> 
> Fanart:
> 
> [Riddler](https://thegreysman.tumblr.com/post/187362211042/my-attempt-to-adapt-my-favorite-fanfic-scenes-the?is_highlighted_post=1)
> 
> [Joker](https://thegreysman.tumblr.com/post/187416767647/here-is-another-of-my-favorite-scenes-from-the)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been through hell and back. updates will come when they can, take this one for now. idk if characters are ooc anymore it's 1am
> 
> i did enjoy writing damian's internal monologue though, tell me your favorite quotes

Marinette wasn’t used to houses as large as the Wayne Manor – that much was clear. Her eyes were wide when she first took everything in. He didn’t take her on a tour, he knew Todd and Drake were somewhere in the mansion and he didn’t want her meeting them until she was ready.

Her jaw did drop when Alfred showed her their kitchen though. Her expression almost made him regret his decision to not give her a tour. The faces she would have possibly made looking at the grand halls and rooms or would have been- _not worth Todd and Drake._

Hence the _almost_.

Marinette seemed to adjust to her surroundings quickly enough. Perhaps the food Alfred managed to make quickly helped with that. She seemed delighted by the taste.

“My parents don’t make these often,” she mumbled, munching on her blondie. “White chocolate is usually used for decoration.”

“I’m glad the daughter of bakers can enjoy my desserts,” Alfred seemed to like her, which was good. He wouldn’t do anything to keep the other two away from her though. Alfred did little to mitigate possible damage done by siblings.

He left after that, though Marinette kept asking if he wanted to eat with them. Damian wasn’t sure why Alfred was so hell-bent on leaving them alone. Unlike Marinette, he didn’t buy that, “I already ate,” bullshit.

However his glare didn’t exactly work through walls, so he instead talked to his an- Marinette.

They talked about a lot of things. What she was planning to do with the fabrics she bought while they were out, she had designs based off Gotham’s superheroes, based off _him _and his family too but they aren’t as important, then how much free time she would have given where her field trip would be taking her over the course of the rest of her days here, he took a mental note of locations and times she mentioned so he could possibly spend more ti- spring her from spending time with that awful class, which led into what she liked about Gotham so far and what she wanted to see before leaving, which he also made note of. For other reasons- _not_ those reasons though, just other reasons in general. To make sure they were safe.

She seemed happy.

It was a good look for her.

Wait, what the fu-

“Can you help me clean up?” she asked, startling Damian out of his own mental interrogation. He’ll return to it later, it seems.

“Sure,” he picked up his empty plate. Alfred happened to choose that moment to return and help clean up, so the mother fucker was clearly fucking listening in. Bitch.

They cleaned for a few wordless moments before Marinette spoke again.

“Do your brothers know we’re here?” she asked Damian while she took the glasses to the kitchen. Damian trailed after her with the plates.

“No, and we can leave before they find out if we’re quick about it,” maybe she changed her mind about meeting them. He wouldn’t blame her.

“What if I’d like to meet them?” she teased. “They sound fun!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Alright Angel, if you’re sure,” he pursed his lips, “but if you want to leave for any reason, just tell me.”

“Master Damian, I do believe that Miss Marinette is capable of taking care of herself,” Alfred almost seemed to be chiding him.

This just in, Alfred is fucking dead to him now.

He began putting the plates in the dishwasher, because unlike fucking Todd, he doesn’t just drop them in the fucking sink and walk away like a heathen.

“What he said, Damian,” Marinette giggled. “I’ll be fine. They can’t be worse than the Riddler or Hawkmoth, and I survived those two.”

Is that how she approaches every situation? Well, it can’t be worse than the fucking Butterfly Terrorist in Paris or the Green Guy with Deadly Riddles! He realized he was gripping the plate in his hands too hard and forced himself to relax.

Then he saw who was behind hi- Marinette.

“Todd,” he didn’t growl, which is a point to him. Todd fucking smirked too, and Damian didn’t murder him. Another point.

“Demon Spawn! I thought you went somewhere else!” He glanced down at Marinette. “Timmy! The Riddler girl is here!”

Of fucking course Drake wanted to talk to Marinette. Of fucking course.

Drake ran in like a fucking lunatic. He is a fucking lunatic but that doesn’t mean he has to run like one. He can run like a normal person just fucking fine. Damian heard him break something on his way to the kitchen, adding to the needlessness of his theatrics. He fought back a sigh and put the last plate away.

“Holy sh-

“Language,” Alfred tutted. Like he fucking cared about fucking language after the Swear Jar Incident.

“You’re actually here! I didn’t think Damian would let you near us!” Damian almost grabbed the dirty plate out of the dishwasher and smashed it against Drake’s head. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne!”

“Jason Todd-Wayne,” Damian’s least favorite brother said.

No, that wasn’t fair to Drake. They were both his least favorite family member.

Marinette seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her eyes widened briefly, like she had come to a realization. Damian mentally screamed when he found the expression cute. She isn’t cute she’s just his friend who is attractive but he isn’t attracted *to* her he can just acknowledge the fucking fact-

Then, she smiled. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng! A pleasure to meet you!”

Drake practically fell over himself trying to get the words out. “So you solved The Riddler’s riddle, right?” Tim asked. “Like, knew what the answer was?”

Marinette nodded. “He probably googled it. A toddler could do better.”

Damian frowned. Did… did she not consider the Riddler a serious villain? Did she not realize that his riddles were meant to be difficult…

Did she not realize how impressive it was that she solved it, especially since it was a play on a language that isn’t her first?

Drake lit up at her nonchalance, likely excited that she considered an intelligent adversary easy to defeat. Fuck that shit.

“Drake, don’t harass her with your questions!” he snapped. Because what the fuck. She was his friend first anyway she doesn’t have to be interrogated.

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“She isn’t uncomfortable-”

“You’re asking about her first and only encounter with a villain of course she is-”

“Are you even looking at her she isn’t-”

“So fucking what if she doesn’t look uncomfortable? You can’t demand the details of something like that for no good god damn reason-”

“You know I have a good reason, you motherfucking asshole-”

“Sure!” he heard Marinette practically shout and-

Wait what?

“What?” Damian asked, interrupting Tim during their argument.

Marinette turned toward him while Todd slung an arm over her shoulder like they were best fucking friends or something. No they fuck they’re not. “Freckles here just agreed to spar with me!”

What.

She turned her head to look at him. “Freckles?”

_What._

“It’s your nickname. ’Cause you’ve got Freckles.”

_What the fuck is this fuckery?_

Damian heard Drake stifle a laugh behind him. The bitch. Damian opened his mouth to argue or say something or stop this because _what the fuck Todd_ but Drake beat him to it.

“Do you seriously want to duel her because she beat The Riddler?” Drake scoffed.

Damian wasn’t sure what he expected but that was disappointing regardless. What the fuck, Drake? Argue better than that!

“You wanted to question her because she solved his riddles!” Todd continued to try and defend the indefensible. “Plus-”

“Todd,” Damian hissed, because they needed to have a _talk_ about not hurting hi- Marinette, it seemed.

“Yeah demon spawn?” Todd sounded fucking bored of all things.

Damian opened his mouth to start his argument when he was interrupted _again_ – was it shit on Damian day today? – wait Marinette is talking-

“-I agreed to it,” she told him, her own beautiful eyes meeting his. “Plus, akuma are typically much larger than me anyway. It’s not like I’m going to break from someone as small as Jason!”

Damian blinked. His brothers laughed but he blinked and tensed a bit. What the hell does she mean akuma are typically bigger than- what are they? He assumed it was some type of gang and while it isn’t that hard to be bigger than his an- Marinette are they all as large as Jason? Larger? How many akuma are there? How much bigger are they? He forced his body to relax. He needed to focus on the now, research this akuma gang headed by a butterfly loving lunatic later.

“We have a gym down the hall,” Drake helpfully said. Todd was still giggling because he thought it was so fucking funny haha bitch. Damian continued to glare. It wouldn’t technically be murder if Todd were killed by a glare, right? Damian didn’t even have powers, so clearly it couldn’t have been him…

“Do you know your IQ?” Tim asked. Like a fucking creep with no concept of personal space or privacy Drake what the ever-loving fuck.

His a- Marinette was rightfully confused by the invasive question but instead of telling Drake to fuck off she was nicer and answered his question. “No, I don’t think I ever took the test.”

Damian was walking ahead of them with Todd to make sure he didn’t pull any funny business but _seriously, bitch, mind your own business_\- “Do you have any measurement of your problem-solving skills?”

Damian didn’t murder anymore. Especially his brothers. Especially especially in front of his- an ang- Marinette. He was tense though, Todd gave him a _look_ and he just glared more.

“My parents don’t like playing strategy games with me,” she seemed to be reminiscing something.

“You always win?” Drake asked. She nodded.

“Hey Timmy, stop holding Freckles up!” Todd called from where they were at the gym door.

“Alright, alright,” Drake grumbled. The other two sped up and soon entered the gym.

It was standard, smaller than the one he grew up using. The sparring mat was in the center, which was what Damian assumed Todd planned to use for this unnecessary battle.

Todd took off his jacket and took a position on the mat. Hi- Marinette followed suit, setting her purse near his jacket. When she took a position, it was off slightly.

Todd lunged, Marinette ducked his punch and maneuvered behind him, driving an elbow into his back. He dodged, barely, and went for a swipe under her feet.

She tripped, but he saw her maneuvering her fall so she wasn’t hurt.

Seems she wanted to end this early too.

“Well, that was fu-”

“You can do better than that!” Drake cried. “There’s no way that’s it.”

“Drake,” Damian grumbled. He should just let her lose if she wants! He knows Jason isn’t really trying either, none of them would really try on a civilian. He was still wor- god damn it.

Todd seemed to pause as if his brain needed to process the information like a slow computer. “Wait, you weren’t really trying?”

“I-” she hesitated, “What makes you think that wasn’t my best?”

“The Riddler is bad at combat,” Drake leaned against the wall acting like a fucking know it all bitch and seriously? “But he’s better than that. Why are you holding back?”

“She can hold back if she wants to,” Damian would really appreciate someone not being an idiot here.

“Jason wanted to see how good she is,” Drake retorted. “If she’s holding back, it’s like purposefully failing a test or losing a game!”

“No, it’s not!” Marinette responded hotly, almost… competitive?

“Why are you not trying to win, Freckles?” Todd asked. “This is sort of a competition.”

Damian saw something shift in his Angel’s demeanor… Seems she’s competitive too. He filed that information away.

She got up and assumed a better position. “Fine then,” she huffed.

Todd got into position and this time, she attacked first.

She went for a fake punch to the throat. He grabbed her fist to block and she grabbed onto his other hand to swing onto his shoulders. He attempted to pull her down with the hand she grabbed but she managed to remove it from his grip and grab it with her own.

“What the hell!”

Todd’s wrists were held by her. He didn’t shake her grip off him, though he could if he were trying. He was attempted to buck her off his shoulders, but Marinette’s legs wrapped around him too tight to be shaken off. As he struggled to get her to let go, she began to swing around to make him lose balance.

He didn’t have his arms to stabilize him or catch his fall. His bucking made his lack of balance worse, and with several curses, he began falling backward. Marinette let go of his trapped hands mid-fall flipped off him, somehow dodging his head.

When Todd landed face-first on the mat looking incredibly pathetic even if he could still win, she was there quick as lightning, pinning his arms behind him and his legs with her weight.

“I win,” she grinned.

Todd responded with more muffled curses.

She got off of him and helped him up. After he was standing, she glanced at him and Drake.

Drake’s mouth was open, being overdramatic again for no fucking reason, really it was cool to see a civilian do that though but that doesn’t mean Drake gets to be impressed!

“Holy hell what are they teaching you in Paris?” Todd grumbled, pupping his back.

Marinette bit her lip. “I’m sorry-”

“Why?” Todd asked. “I asked for you to fight me. This was fun even if I got a mouthful of matt.”

“Do you work out?” Drake asked, again with the questions!

“Not regularly,” she responded. “But my parents own a bakery and the flour bags are heavy. Plus, sometimes someone orders a huge cake, and those can get heavy too!”

Drake nodded, likely filing that information away to write some fucking biography on her because she’s oh so impressive for a civilian- she _is_ but Drake can fucking leave her alone!

Todd spoke up because since he died he had a death wish. “Hey Demon Spawn, are you rebooting or something?”

Damian scrambled for an excuse, as _I’m mentally murdering you and Drake_ is typically an unacceptable answer. No it wasn’t but he wouldn’t say that around his Ang- Marinette. “Apologies. I’m a bit surprised, as I didn’t see Marinette actually fight The Riddler, I didn’t know what she was capable of.”

“What?” Marinette seemed to snap out of a train of thought suddenly, “I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“You-“ _are really impressive._

“He said you did a good job, Freckles,” Todd fucking interrupted him how dare he. But also thank you- god, this was all because of that fucking worry wasn’t it? Fucking god damn worry was poisoning his every thought and action.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled.

“Okay since that’s over now,” Drake rubbed his hands together. “Marinette-”

“Please tell me none of you died,” Father walked in, surveying the room. “Huh. I’m surprised there isn’t any blood. Alfred told me you were sparring.”

“Jason decided to spar Damian’s girl-”

“Marinette,” Damian interrupted, she’s not his *girl* what the fuck, she’s his _friend_\- “My friend Marinette.”

Bruce Wayne sees her for the first time and Marinette has to shake off the feeling of being analyzed.

“She’s the girl that punched Riddler in the throat,” Drake says unhelpfully.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” she goes to shake his hand. He takes it and shakes. Good, his father isn’t dead to him then. Alfred still has to make up for some shit.

“She won against Todd by the way,” Damian decided to add. Father stiffened a bit. They both knew Todd was going easy on her, but it was still interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Father says. “Alfred wanted to invite you to stay for dinner.”

Since when was that a fucking thing? And _why_? What was Alfred’s fucking angle? Damian’s eyes narrowed. If he thought this would make it up to hi- shit she’s talking.

“-ze, but I must be returned to my class by five-thirty pm.”

“Uh, it’s four forty now,” Todd points out, “How long is the drive, Freckles?”

Marinette pales. “I should probably head back-”

“I’ll go with you,” Damian didn’t want to be around his brothers, he knew they’d find something to tease him about regarding Marinette. “Alfred can drive us if that is alright with you.” He was still the most trusted driver even if he’s currently dead to him right now.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” she smiled and Damian felt… oddly warm. Was he sick?. She turned to his brothers and father, “It was wonderful to meet you guys!”

“I’ll win the sparring match next time, Freckles,” Tood told her. Was he going to hold back less or something? He better fucking not.

Drake said something about another invasive idea for a test that Damian would deal with later, when he could use his sword. “You better come back,” he said out loud. Why the hell would he demand things of her?

“I’d love to return if I’m invited.”

“When,” he told her.

She managed to smile again. “When.”

At this rate, there wouldn’t be a fucking _when_ if this shit happens every time.

They left the room and Alfred led them to the car. He allowed the silence as she didn’t appear to want to talk. Maybe she wanted to relax? He wasn’t sure, so he didn’t start a conversation. Was he overthinking things? Weedkiller, he’d get the fucking weedkiller soon...

“The brothers I met were nice,” she began to talk suddenly, she must want a conversation. “They seem annoying-”

“You can say that again,” he grumbled automatically.

“-but they seem like decent brothers,” she finished. “They’re fun people too.”

Damian shrugged. “Sometimes.” Like when he’s using them for target practice.

There was more silence. But now he’s thinking, well wondering? He’s thinking and wondering and-

“Do you have secrets?” he asked suddenly and _Fucking fuck fuck_. he shouldn’t ask that what the fuck he was mad at Drake for the invasive questions real fucking hypocritical of him huh- “You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’re aware that there are things I’m not comfortable telling you yet and-”

“I have secrets,” she interrupted his fucking worried rambling he would kill the worry he swears. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Oh. That… To earn enough of her trust like that… Damian smiled slightly, even if it felt foreign on his face. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, Angel. It’s only fair that I give you what you’re giving me.”

Marinette grinned wide. “Thank you.”

Maybe he could get a bit more used to smiling, seeing a smile like that…

“We have arrived,” Alfred said from the front seat. Damian was shocked, glanced out the window and- oh, they have arrived… he was disappointed, but only in his inability to realize himself. Nothing else. Nothing. At all. Nothing.

He got out with her, and a moment of clumsiness seemed to overtake her. She tripped over Damian’s feet.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry,” her accent was heavier, she must be struggling to speak a second language while… embarrassed?

“It’s alright Angel,” he should try to soothe the embarrassment, right? Is that how that worked? She seemed tense as he helped her up, and she turned to face him and- is she alright?

“Is something wrong?” he was worried.

“I’m okay,” she said, brushing off her knees. “I used to fall like that all the time, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t.”

After some hesitation, she left. She walked back into the building, safe and unharmed. He got back into the car and Alfred drove them back to the manor.

* * *

It was easy to slip into the building unnoticed. Well, not unnoticed, the jester did kill the man behind the desk and leave him there. But he died with a smile on his face. They’d all die with a smile on their faces. And this would be fun for the jester too. the jester would have a lot of fun, so much fun, so much fun, a lot of so much fun you see…

The jester waited behind the desk with the lights off. Another girl was there. Not the one the jester wanted, no no not yet. But perhaps she’d join her little friend. The jester would get two. Have even more fun.

The jester grinned, hidden by the dark. But soon the jester wouldn’t be. And it would be so, so much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and i hope you're having fun and okay, wash your hands please

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you have a nice day


End file.
